Day 440: Lucifer?

A dramatic dawn, all greys on whites on bright light shining, clouds moving, blue prevailing. A similarly sumptuous dusk, full of bright skies and perseverant sun, backed by water-heavy skies and fruit-coloured cloud-borders (apricot, mango, orange). Wind making things bitter and beautiful in one gusty puff. The simple fact of seeing both the dawn and the dusk. I never thought I’d say it, but a 5am start has its advantages.

A shared meditation and pranayama session, an individual yoga class. I am spoilt.

A test. Not my first, but my first of this kind. A scientific experiment. I liked it. Well, I didn’t like it in some ways, but I liked that I had the opportunity to do it and to understand it so well (explained by such a clever creature).

A salad, enjoyed with said clever creature in the midst of knowledgeable discussion. A discovery that one thing that draws me to both libraries and universities is a hunger for learning and a feeling of exhilaration around it. Sometimes it stops at that. I love the idea of it though. I get that, I think, from my father. My mother too, no doubt. Bright people.

Sweet and pretty buddleia lining a whole street just below Avenue des Pins, light purple and rich with perfume. A crusty street turned into a sensual pleasure. I particularly enjoyed, not two minutes earlier, the shocked squawk that came out of me when a big garage door opened unexpectedly. It was a concrete deathtrap area (the kind of place you’d expect to get knifed). The lady in her big car looked very nice, though.

A long walk up des Pins, Parc, Mont-Royal and St. Laurent to get to the Sivananda centre. A request to the skies for a bit of positive dog interaction. I was feeling a bit yearny for some. I got through a whole park just looking and made it to the centre having already forgotten my request, only to be greeted by an excitable Santosha (ginger girl-dog, fat like a biscuit, friendly and master-loving) and a whole crowd of funny, down-to-earth yoga types. 

Santosha’s owner and his fascinating fisherman’s face, all wise and wide-eyed. He told me a story about how he’d rescued the girl-dog from a frozen river one winter, risking his life, but only realising it after he made it back onto the bank safe, the ice he’d lain on to save her being kind to him, this time.

Shankara, the most down to earth of all, bandying coffee about and being funny and grounded. The cellist, friendly and talented. Omkah (not sure if that’s how you spell it) whose real name another karma yogi and I discovered- Régin, I think. Good eyes. Good heart. Easy demeanour.

A stint of cold-calling. You know, it wasn’t that bad. I didn’t even have to do it. I just seemed to volunteer to at my own suggestion. I didn’t even announce it. I’ve always dreaded that kind of thing (and often calls in general) but they went fine. Most of them were messages and those few I spoke to were friendly. A yoga-hungry young man who had a million questions about Sivananda, yoga teacher training, yoga manuals and Vipassana ten-day silent retreats. We talked for so long that I missed my moment to go up and do the yoga class (grateful for the offer, though). I enjoyed it. I felt useful. Not just because of any of these things, but all in all. Thank you.

Happy contact with two connected Robs. Helpful emails from Marc and Vinny from Montreal Improv. 

Thank you thank you. And a bilingual hair pun… none of this ‘headlines’ or ‘a cut above’ or such tired shit… this salon’s name was ‘Lucifhair’ (that’s how Lucifer is pronounced in French). Get them. I want to go there. Come on, evil ones, give me devil hair!

We used to have a cat called Lucifer. He was grey and white, cool, but stupid. He reminded me of John Travolta. That was neither a compliment nor an insult, at the time. Since the media's Scientology revelations, it has become all the more fitting. Cool, but not that switched on, maybe. Oh, the judgement in that! To be cool and calm and really zen, I need to let go of judgements. Will I ever be able to make myself laugh again if I do? Am I willing to let go of that? Time will tell...

A train caught. The fact that it was light when I got on and dark by the time I came out of the first tunnel. The thought of going home to a meal prepared by a fond fox.